


The Black Plague

by DiYunho



Category: DCU, Joker - Fandom, Suicide Squad (2016), The Joker - Fandom, The Joker dcu - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Awkward Romance, Awkwardness, Character Death, Comfort/Angst, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Issues, Fatherhood, Feelings, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gotham City - Freeform, Heavy Angst, Implied Relationships, Joker - Freeform, Love, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, Motherhood, One Night Stands, Parenthood, Past Relationship(s), Relationship(s), Teasing, The Joker - Freeform, The Joker Jared Leto, The Joker Suicide Squad, The Joker dcu, Tragedy, Tragedy/Comedy, Villains, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, daughter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 17:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17923115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiYunho/pseuds/DiYunho
Summary: The Joker’s unexpected death left you behind with a young daughter to raise and unbearable pain. Things have never been easy but now that he’s gone you miss him so badly it hurts. And you have a lifetime to endure without The King of Gotham.





	The Black Plague

**Author's Note:**

> You can also follow me on Tumblr and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

“What…took you…so long? I almost died waiting…literally…” J takes deep breaths, trying to focus on you. He’s lying in a pool of blood, still holding the cell to his chest.

You rush by his side and kneel, so shocked you can’t make a sound. You lift his head in your lap, wiping a few red drops splattered on his pale cheeks.

“Those bastards…got me…” he manages to point towards the two dead bodies a few feet away in the underground parking. “But I got… them too,” The Joker pants, making an effort to continue. “I’m glad…you answered…the phone…” and he groans in pain; it’s so hard for him to speak at this point. “If…if there’s something…you wanna tell me…you should hurry…” he faintly smiles and your mind is completely blank. You finally start bawling, reality suddenly hitting with its cruel outcome.

“I love you,” J hears and it seems so far away.

“I…I know that…What else?” He starts coughing, almost choking in his own blood.

“What am I supposed to tell Emma, hm?” you bring your face close to his, so desperate and hopeless you can’t stop shaking.

“Tell her…that…” and The Joker really strains to finish but can’t. “Tell… … …her…” His eyelids slowly close, the world fading away.

“J…? J…?” you gently caress his hand even if it’s too late: you know he’s gone. “What am I supposed to tell Emma?… What am I supposed to tell her?…”

*************

As soon as you step out of the elevator into the penthouse, your three years old daughter runs towards you, excited:

“Mommy!” and she hugs your legs, giggling. “Whe’s daddy?” Emma glances behind you, pouting. You don’t even pick her up, not realizing that’s what she wants. Frost gave you his jacket to cover your clothes soaked with blood.

“Up, mommy, up!” she pulls on your jeans, whimpering when you ignore her and walk away.

“Whe’s daddy?” your child insists, hoping he will be the one to play with her.

“Daddy will never come home again,” you turn towards her for a few moments, feeling the unbearable pain crushing your heart.

“Com’ere, kid,” Frost sighs, lifting the little girl in his arms, her pigtails flying in the air.“You want chocolate cake?” he asks, distracting Emma and she nods a yes, forgetting she was about to whine.

“Cake?” the squeaky tone excitedly inquires.

“Yes, kiddo, your favorite.”

“Yaaayy!!!” she bounces in his strong hold, happy to get a sweet treat. You barely drag your feet to the nearest bathroom downstairs, locking the door and start to undress, your body convulsing under the pressure building up inside.

Jonny is very quick to hurry out of the penthouse so the child won’t have to hear the screams that will soon echo in the stillness.

**************

“Wanna see daddy?”

“U-hum,” Emma impatiently reaches her hands for you and she gets picked up right away.

The silver casket is opened and she peeks at her dead father.

“Daddy?” she leans over and strokes his forehead, not understanding why he’s not moving. “Daddy, wake up,” and his daughter kisses his cheeks, snickering; she thinks The Joker is pretending and will tickle her for sure in just a few seconds.

“Daddy can’t wake up, sweetie,” you bite on your lower lip as hard as you can to stop the tears.

“Why?” she sulks, rubbing her blue eyes, then pets his hair, sensing something is not quite right but she’s too young to comprehend the awfulness of what is happening.

“He has to go far away and we won’t see him after today, ok?” you try to explain in the best way possible, your voice breaking towards the end of the sentence.

“Nooo,” she whimpers, clinging at your black dress.

You sniffle and Emma kisses his temple, upset.

“Daddy’s cold.”

You lift your shoulders up, incapable of mustering a reply. She puckers her lips and blows warm air on his neck a few times, then the little girl smiles once more, waiting for him to say something.

“Daaaddy…wake up…” she gets disappointed again since J is not reacting. The kid taps his hand, not giving up. “Daddy…daddy…”

Your daughter notices you’re crying and she frowns, wincing when you squeeze her in your embrace.

“I want my daaaaddy,” Emma places her arms around your neck, her mother’s behavior making her uneasy yet you can’t control the raging emotions anymore.

“Your dad is gone,” you whisper in her ear, sobbing. “It’s only us the girls now.”

***************

“Is this seat taken?” someone wants to know while you are immersed in your book, waiting for the meeting to begin.

“Yes!” you almost shout since you always want to be alone and not socialize with the others.

“Perfect!” the person grumbles and takes a seat by you, disregarding the answer.

“Do you mind?!” you get pissed, slamming the pages shut.

“No, I don’t mind,” the arrogance takes over.

You want to tell the man to fuck off or something but as your eyes meet his, that can’t be done: it’s The Joker. You kind of had a one night stand, then another one, then another one, then a few more, then…nothing in the last two weeks.

“I can seat wherever I want, Y/N, I don’t need permission.”

Avoiding confrontation with J is tough, almost impossible. He pretends to brush an imaginary crumb off his green suit, resting his fingers on the top of the cane matching his outfit.

“You’re all dolled up; going on a date or something?” The King of Gotham teases because he loves to annoy you: he calls it “his hobby”.

“In the matter of fact I am after this boring crap,” and it’s actually the truth.

“Pretty popular, huh?” he grins, chuckling.

“Yeap, always,” the sassiness bothers him and J growls.

“In your dreams, Y/N, you’re not that special,” the malicious smirk on his face irritates you.

“Well then, thank God you don’t have to go on a date with me.”

“Indeed,” he snarls, crossing his legs. ”You get on my nerves; I couldn’t stand you even if you pay me.”

“I have better things to spend my money on, Mister J. You’re just jealous.”

He glares in your direction, burning holes through you.

“Jealous?! Me?! I bet the guy’s a loser anyway,” he starts laughing and you don’t find it amusing. If you continue the conversation he won’t shut up so you swallow your pride and let him have the last word.

** “Is this seat taken?” you hear his voice and panic.

“Yes!!” you look up to see him as he’s positioning himself right by you.

“Excellent. So the guy’s not here yet?” The Joker pries in your personal life, wanting to hear the scoop.

“No, not yet, so I would appreciate if you would just leave. Are you following me around?!” you bluntly demand to know.

“Ha! That’s a good one, Y/N. Like I don’t have better things to do with my precious time. I actually have a date too, not that I need to inform you. I am being a gentleman here because I saw you all alone at the table and I thought you should know: your date is not coming.”

“Wha…? How do you know he’s not coming?” you suspiciously squint your eyes.

“I told him not to show up or I’m gonna kill him. It worked, didn’t even fight it. Told you you’re not that special,” J winks, satisfied with his victory. He gets up and steps away, leaving you behind dumbfounded.

You try to call your guy and after a couple of rings, the message makes you cringe: “This number is no longer is service.”

Are you kidding me?! you angrily yell at your cell, concluding things will not happen so you abandon your table on the terrace, making your way out of the restaurant when you see him: J with a woman, getting reading to have dinner.

You stomp towards them, antagonized.

“Is this seat taken?” you touch one of the two extra chairs, yanking it away.

“Yes,” the woman stares you down, confused. “We are expecting company.”

“Cool !” and you drop on it, nonchalantly grabbing an extra menu and reading through it.

J ignores you, continuing to gaze at his.

“Who is this, Mister J?” she frets, appalled somebody has the audacity to interrupt them.

“The Black Plague,” he snarls, sucking on his silver teeth, calm and composed. His favorite nickname for you.

“Can you tell her to leave, please?”

“It’s a free country. If you want her to leave, tell her yourself.”

The woman is very confused and you interrupt:

“So what are we having?”

“Lamb,” The Joker shortly responds, closing his menu.

“I’ll have the same,” you decide. “What do you want?” you address the woman and she is lost. 

“Mister J, what’s going on? I thought we’re on a date.”

“We are.”

“It’s very awkward,” she complains.

“I love awkward,” you serenely smile, apparently without a care in the universe.

“I don’t!” the woman snaps and J retaliates:

“If you don’t like it, disappear!”

Her mouth opens and before she protests, you enunciate with an indifferent tone:

“I’m pregnant.”

“Why?” he debates on the question, skeptical.

“Why what?” you continue, scratching your arm.

“Why are you telling me? You need a father for your kid?”

“Nope, I thought you would want to know,” and the woman feels out of place since her presence is totally disregarded by both parties. “You want a paternity test?”

“Naahh, I will spare you the embarrassment of everyone finding out I’m not the dad.”

“More like you want to spare yourself the embarrassment of finding out you are the dad after creating such a fuss over it,” your confident comeback makes the woman abandon her seat and The Joker doesn’t acknowledge the move.

“This is ridiculous! We are on a date! I can’t…”

“Then get lost!” he rolls his eyes. “Or stay! Your choice, allright?!”

**************

“Daaaadyyyyy,” you hear Emma’s mouse voice and open your eyes, still tired as hell. You fell asleep inside the walk-in closet again: it’s been your refuge and sanctuary lately, the only space that keeps the demons at bay. Surrounded by his clothes and everything he left behind, you don’t come out of the sacred hideout for hours.

“Daadddyyyy,” your daughter little feet run up and down the stairs: she’s searching for her father again. The poor child believes J is playing hide-and-seek with her, that’s why he’s not around. Sometimes you join the quest, finding your troubled mind actually hoping he would just show up out of nowhere and brag about how amazingly diligent he is since his girls couldn’t find him. An idiot’s hope, fueled by your daughter’s innocence and you own sorrow…

“Y/N,” Frost knocks at the door, “I brought food, come and eat.”

You lick your dry lips, remembering you didn’t even drink water today.

“I’m not hungry,” you yawn, adjusting your body on the air mattress and turning on the laptop.

“You have to eat; Emma’s hungry, come on,” he insists and you obey, not in the mood for anything.

You roll off your current bed, cracking your stiff bones as you stretch. Somehow it’s even hard to breathe. After a couple of minutes you are finally out of the closet and find your daughter at the table in the kitchen, already munching on some mashed potatoes. You really don’t know what you would do without Jonny; he takes care of her and everything else since you are incapable of being a full time mother or tend to any business.

“Mommy, look,” she proudly shows you her plate, excited to see you for the day.

You kiss her forehead and sadly smile, not touching your food.

“Eat mommy,” Emma tries to feed you. “This is f’om meeee,” she drags the word and you are familiar with the game so you accept the tiny spoon. More mashed potatoes come your way. “And this is f’om daaadddyyy,” you daughter giggles and you can’t even chew. But you pull yourself together as she goes on: “This is f’om meeeee… …This is f’om daaaddddyyy.”

You forcefully eat and can’t stop the tears anymore when the inevitable question arises:

“Whe’s daddy, hm?” and she looks around, probably wanting to feed him also.

“Daddy’s not here,” and you abruptly get up and run away, bumping into Frost that is coming over with more food.

“Hey, Y/N, did you eat already?!”

You don’t reply and go back to your oasis, crying so hard you can’t focus as you go through the laptop, looking at pictures and videos, precious memories that summarize your only hope for some kind of closure. You accidentally click on “Accounts”, then want to back out when a subfolder gets your attention: “For The Black Plague.”

What is this? you wipe your eyes, not having a clue about what it would be: you rarely go into “Accounts” on your laptop because J had all the links on his and kept track of the money more than you did.

You double click on it and it opens up a video icon, dated 6 months ago.

How intriguing.

Click again and…

“So only watch this if I’m dead, OK?” The Joker’s face popping up on the screen makes you gasp. “Are you still watching?… Well, I guess I’m dead then. First thing first: don’t cry. Your eyes get so puffy you look like a blow-up fish! Very unattractive! It’s 2 in the morning, I am in my boxers and after you totally ignored my request for sex, I guess I’m bored enough to make this stupid video. What is that?!” he turns around and you can see yourself in the background, sleeping, completely out of it. “Is that snoring? Huffing? Puffing? The Queen of Gotham, making all those sounds! Geez, woman,” and J faces the camera again, tucking his messy green hair behind the ears.

“Anyway, in case you were wondering, yes, I hate you. I hate so much that I had a kid with you,” his husky voice announces. “I guess that says it all. E-hem,” J fake coughs and you are mesmerized, can’t even breathe. “Hey, Princess!” he yells, “I’m horny, wake up!” Some mumbling about being tired is heard, you don’t recall anything. “For the record, this is a direct threat to my health,” his blue eyes stare at the camera. “ I have to be able to walk tomorrow so I must insist. Hey, Princess!” he yells louder. “I’m horny, come on, wake up!”

A faint answer, can’t even understand what you said.

“Wow, that tired, hm? Don’t care. I’m gonna get laid no matter what,” and that cocky grin gets you out of trance for a second. “It’s a miracle we got a kid out of this relationship. Before I go, here’s the deal: since I obviously died first, I’ll wait for you. Don’t take too long: try not to live until you’re a hundred or something, you are aware I get easily bored. Then after you come, we’ll wait together for the kiddo, ok?”

Then he stops, thinking about what just came out of his mouth.

“Oh my God, see what being horny and ignored makes me do ?! I talk about a bunch of stupid stuff; it’s all your fault !!!” he scrunches up his face, squirming in the recliner. Then it seems J is having an interior struggle about his final words.  
“Are you gonna make me say it?” and you involuntarily clench to your shirt. “Fine, I’ll say it again: I hate you. You know what that translates into? Do you?… It translates into I don’t like you. What?! Were you expecting I love you? Pfft, in your dreams, woman, get over yourself; you’re not that special,” The Joker hisses. “I might delete this since it’s complete garbage. I’ll decide after you take care of my needs.”

And his finger goes over the camera, the video coming to a halt.

You are so overwhelmed your body is petrified, looking around the closet and expecting for something to happen. But nothing happens, so you sigh, replaying the video over and over again until you fall back to sleep.

*****************

Emma crawls by J, sucking on her binky, trying to climb up his foot.

“You’re pretty helpless, aren’t you?” he scoffs, watching her retry and dropping back on her little butt numerous times until crying starts.

“For heaven’s sake, why can’t you just do it?” and he helps her up, firmly pressing the 6 months old against his leg. She clutches to his pants and starts smiling so widely that the pacifier falls out of her mouth.

“What, you’re happy now?” and that almost toothless, sweet smile makes him groan.“You’re not a cute baby, you know that?”

“Stop saying that to our daughter, she is cute!” you get mad since you heard him.

“You’d think she would be better looking kid: I’m handsome and the mom is not that hideous,” The Joker blares out a bunch of obnoxious unfunded opinions. 

You snatch her from him, frowning.

“Let’s go, sweetie. Daddy’s just a bitter, cranky man!”

“Watch it, Y/N!” he shouts after you as you leave the premises and after a while a door gets slammed, then the elevator descending makes him aware you left.

Great, he gazes at the ceiling, already knowing where you’re headed.

He didn’t contact you in a week, you didn’t bother either. Just stayed at your apartment like you usually do when things go sour. And they go sour very often.

It’s the middle of the night and you go check on Emma when you realize the nightlight in her room is on. You quietly approach and peep inside from behind the wall: J is there, holding the little one in his arms.

“You are cute,” he kisses her forehead. “I just don’t like you too much.”

You decide to make your presence known.

“What are you doing here? You came to see your ugly baby?”

The Joker growls, full of spite.

“Why didn’t you bring her over?! It’s been a week!”

You lift your shoulders up, grouchy and resentful.

“Why bother? You’ll be mean to her and she doesn’t deserve it.”

“Shut up and stop aggravating me! You’re coming back to the penthouse first thing in the morning.”

“No!”

But fighting him is pointless.

“You can’t keep a father from his child; it’s illegal!” J throws that in your face and it sounds so silly you chuckle.

***************

“Da’yy,” Emma babbles and J drops the cellphone in his lap.

“Did she just…did she just say daddy?!” he inquires and you snort.

“I think so,” and you watch the one year old hesitantly stepping towards a fascinated Joker.

“Can you say it again?” he lifts her in his arms, probably expecting a full conversation. He’s that type of person.

But Emma just baby talks, preoccupied with his crazy colored hair.

****************

“Daaadyy, Daaaddyyyy, Daaaddddyy, la, laaa, la, Dadddyyyyy, la, la,laaaa,” the two year old keeps on singing, walking her Doll on her father’s knees.

He’s getting a headache: she’s been singing that for the past 15 minutes, completely insensitive to her parent’s pain.

“Pumpkin, are you going to stop soon?!”

The singing gets louder and you have to underline:

”Aren’t you excited you have your own song? I don’t!”

“Ughhh, lucky me,” The Joker grumbles but caresses her tiny head.

***************

“Mom, mom, wake up, you’re talking in your sleep again.”

First thing you see upon awakening is Emma, sitting on the bed and holding your hand. She is 35 now, almost the same age you were when you lost J.

You got so sick in the last month. You had walking pneumonia and didn’t even know until you fainted in the living room. Added to your heart disease and other complications, your health doesn’t seem to improve, only worsen day by day. Your daughter refuses to leave your side, even if you tell her you’re fine.

“I dreamed about your father again,” you confess. “Dreams about a long time ago, when you were a baby…”

She softly laughs, kissing your hand.

“Did you dream about when we used to look for him all over the place?”

“How do you know?” you smile, sliding up your pillows.

“You keep on repeating his name, mom,” Emma helps you up as you kind of struggle to keep your balance.

“Let’s look for him again, we didn’t do it in so long!” you suddenly have an outburst of energy.

“Really?” she holds your waist as you walk outside your bedroom.

“Humor an old woman, would you?” you beg, playing the weakling mother.

“Fine,” your daughter agrees. “Let’s search for him. Daadddddd!!!!” she raises her voice and you follow.

“Jaaaaayyyyyyy!!!!!!” and you search the penthouse in every room, even the closets.

“He’s nowhere to be found…again…” you get sad and Emma feels guilty.

“Mom, come on, don’t get upset.”

“Why can’t we ever find him?…” and your teary eyes make hers the same. “I don’t feel too good, kiddo, help me back downstairs.”

“Did you take your meds, mom? You must have high blood pressure again.”

“Stupid pills !! My heart disease it’s from a broken heart, can’t fix that,” you repeat to the young woman like you always do when she asks about the meds.

Emma places you back to bed, tucking you in.

“I’ll bring some water for your tablets. You have to take your antibiotics too. Did you eat anything today?”

“Of course!” you lie, dizzy and drained.

“I don’t believe you. I’ll warm up some food and I’ll be back shortly, ok?”

“Stubborn like your dad,” you playfully slap her thigh.

“Stubborn like both, from what I’ve heard,” she points out the truth, exiting the room.

You want to reach for the remote so you can turn on the TV, but the sudden, sharp ache in your heart knocks you out of breath. You try to call Emma’s name but the sounds freeze on your lips. The piercing pain claws at your chest and your vision gets cloudier. The second wave of throbbing ache calms your labored breathing and as you close your eyes forever, you hear his voice so clearly:

“Finally, Princess, what took you so long ?!”


End file.
